Lunar Love

Jerk! What’s this guy’s deal?

“Well, if that’s not adorable!” Marcus says. The audience claps along with him.

“It’s something, Marcus, it’s something,” I say. “But Bennett, just because Pó Po, I mean June, allegedly matched your parents, it doesn’t mean you know her. Or me.”

Marcus and the other panelists look confused as I pick up my conversation with Bennett where we left off backstage. Bennett realizes right away. He gives me a look. The look. The let’s-not-do-this-here look.

Addressing Marcus, the panelists, and the audience, Bennett says, “I see our businesses as complementary to one another. The Chinese zodiac can’t be monopolized. We offer a similar service but in different ways.” He looks smug with his political correctness.

“Our business isn’t a digital identity crisis. That’s the only difference,” I reveal in the heat of the moment.

Bennett’s smile melts off his face. His eyes turn so cold that they extinguish the fire behind mine. “That’s not—” Bennett says before stopping abruptly. He thinks for a moment, his eyebrows lifting. Under his breath he asks, “Were you the one who wrote that WhizDash article?”

Oops.

“You’re CakeGirl, aren’t you?” Bennett asks, the hurt on his face cutting deep into me.

“No sidebar conversations!” Marcus says with a nervous laugh. “Speak up so we can all hear. This is a live recording, all made possible by our generous sponsors.”

Bennett leans onto one of the armrests. “You know, it can be really hard for people to let go of the past, Marcus. Change isn’t easy for everyone. But we’re living in modern times so it’s time to stop getting stuck in our old ways. Digital is the future. What do you all think?” he asks the audience.

The audience claps and cheers to answer his question, their excitement bouncing off the walls of the theater. Everyone except Alisha and Randall, of course. They sit with their arms crossed, looking appalled and shouting boos as shields against the crowd’s enthusiasm.

I try to think of a witty comeback, but instead I become defensive. “Why do people feel the need to get rid of traditions? They’re an important part of history that will be forgotten if we,” I say, motioning my arms around the stage and out toward the audience, “don’t keep them alive. Why are you so against tradition, Bennett?”

Bennett adjusts the collar of his amber cashmere zip-up. “I’m only against tradition when it distracts you from the truth of what’s good. When you operate in a state of denial because you’re stuck in the mud of the past,” he says, his tone icy.

“Poetic! For our listeners at home, the tension in here is palpable,” Marcus says, crossing his hands over his lap. “And remember, panelists, we’re live. We can’t edit anything you say afterwards.”

I look out into the crowd and up at the faded murals above the balcony. The vaulted ceiling glimmers from the thousands of tiny mirrors sprinkled across it. It’s as though we’re in our own Spanish Gothic–style world, the indoor mirror-stars a glimpse of the past. Except instead of the sensation of feeling unconfined by the vastness of the universe, I feel trapped. All eyes are on us—on me—as I form my response.

“Tradition is steady. Reliable. Lunar Love has lasted this long for a reason,” I explain, twisting one of my rose-gold rings around my pointer finger. “We’re not some flash-in-the-pan start-up that’s only around until people move on to the next shiny thing.”

Bennett scoffs. “Sounds like someone’s worried that technology will obliterate what’s old and outdated.”

The fire behind my eyes is back and burning brighter than ever. I feel the heat radiate through my body so rapidly that I’m not fully aware when I stand up and announce, “We’re not outdated. Our methods may be rooted in history, but we make real love happen. I’ll prove to you that we’re better. I bet I can match you up with someone so compatible that you’ll be in love by the end of the year.”

The room goes quiet. Marcus, pro that he is, speaks first. “I’m not a betting man, but that sounded to me like a wager.”

Bennett sits up straighter in his chair, looking pensive. “That’s—I don’t know about this,” he says. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t want to do this, or you don’t want to do this?” I take my seat confidently. “Scared your scam will be outed?” I say quietly, offering Bennett a smug smile. “I’ve been in business long enough to know what it takes to make a successful match. Your business hasn’t even launched yet. Who’s better? Well, it’s as clear as the sun and the moon.”

Instead of scaring Bennett off, I’ve only intrigued him. He settles into a more comfortable position. “More like, I can’t be held responsible when ZodiaCupid’s results are better than you think. Better than Lunar Love’s outcomes.”

I bite my lip. “Impossible,” I say, growing panicky. I keep a neutral and unwavering look on my face. “Like I said, I’ll prove it to you.”

“Based on traits?”

“Precisely.”

“And you think you know me?”

I half smile. “Oh, I have a decent idea about who you are.”

“Fine. You’ve got yourself a deal,” Bennett agrees. Warmth has returned to his eyes, but I can still see the hurt behind them. Hurt I put in them.

“Wait, so I’ll take the time to handpick you a custom match, and you’ll let your algorithm do the work?” I ask.

“That’s how our businesses work, isn’t it?” Bennett says. “You pick a match for me, and I’ll let my algorithm pick one for you, and we’ll see who finds love.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Little does he know, I’m never again letting myself fall for someone incompatible. This wager’s already been won. “Absolutely.”

“And I don’t need until the end of the year. In my world, two and a half months is too long. I bet I can match you using ZodiaCupid with someone you’ll be in love with by the end of the month,” Bennett counters.

“You’re kidding,” I say, letting out an unamused laugh.

Bennett shakes his head. He crosses his arms and leans back casually against the seat. The other two panelists look slightly stunned, but amused.

I blink furiously. “See? This is my point exactly! That isn’t about how fast it happens. Love isn’t some careless word you throw around!”

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